Time for a bio-rant, to break up the monotony of campaign dementia. We are so sick of saturation coverage, day after day -- all this toxic rhetoric from Dems, Repubs, & the pundits who pretend to understand them. Time for a refreshing getaway -- a real vacation under the sea -- to frolic then relax amid amber waves of venom far more poisonous than even Trump can muster.

We have to groan at these "Worst This" & "Most Dangerous That" lists that flutter all over the web like stoned locusts in a hemp field, whenever social media managers run out of things to talk about. Here's the nitty gritty, folks...

A few days back, one of our esteemed colleagues in the divin' biz posted a riveting photo of one rump-ugly stonefish, with this caption -- "most venomous fish in the whole world." Immediately a buzzer went off & I could feel the bull-roar hackles rising. Say what? You sure it's the most... ?

In a sense that might be true, at least partly so. Always give it wide berth; because the stonefish can be a nasty S.O.B. But so can a sleeping hyena with an abscessed tooth -- when you shake her shoulders. Stonefish spines, when triggered, will inject a pre-synaptic nerve toxin that can halt the heart & stifle breathing. But some folks have lived for days after stepping barefoot on a stonefish; time enough for the cavalry to arrive. I've watched fishermen in Tonga scoop them off a reef with nets, carefully plop them into a bucket on board, clean them with leather gloves & exquisite TLC, then roast their muscle meat & devour it the same day!

Our SocMed friend failed to flesh out his stonefish claim with a lucid context, we feel, & therefore drifted into semi-comical hyperbole -- a quicksand pit lurking on many social media these days. ( Not all, mind you. )

I've been a PADI divemaster for 25 years, blessed to scuba- & free-dive in 3 dozen island nations around the world. Here's the gist: it's essential to massage the label of "most venomous" a fair bit to make this fully fit for any science journal, or person who prefers truth to conjecture. The qualifier "most venemous" sputters & flops in many contexts.

First off, stonefish are not only ugly as sin in a St. Louis sewer; they are among the most reclusive & elusive creatures to be found anywhere on a reef or rocky substratum undersea. Yes, they can wear camo with the best of submarine lurkers. But they're not too hard to spy. We have spotted dozens of them over the last 3 decades, at all kinds of depths; & not once has a stonefish lunged from its cubbyhole to attack, or even remotely threaten a human being.

They only project their chemical kill-shot at smaller fish when hungry, provoked or threatened. Therefore it's tough to say they're "the most venomous" anything -- when mathematical odds make it highly unlikely that any careful scuba diver or snorkeler will ever even meet one.

If this super-shy critter surges from his lair, for example, & injects spine venom directly into a nitwit human hand, or feels a nitwit human heel stepping on it during an ill-advised barefoot reef hike -- then yes that's all she wrote -- if an antivenin is not administered soon. But here's the rub: to be truly toxic, an underwater creature has to pose a reasonable likelihood that you'll even enter their "personal space."

And many species of jellyfish, one in particular, are dramatically more poisonous than a stonefish, & scores of times more likely to bump into you randomly while diving. More on that scary reality, later.

Let's digress a moment... the ubiquitous banded sea snake, with which we've dived & swum countless times over the years, all across the Pacific, has venom that can kill you in minutes; but a personality so mild 'n mellow, that we've seen beaucoup island kids in Fiji, New Caledonia, the Samoas, playing with them even on dry land, with their bare hands. If you don't squeeze these black-and-white striped snakes, or shake them suddenly, chances are high they'll never chomp you. That's not a chance I've ever been eager to take. However I've had those amiable li'l guys swim directly next to me -- even right under that most jealously guarded of "Guy Zones" -- & not once did I feel at all in danger from a reptile whose bite can kill far quicker than any cobra extant. The upshot is this: banded sea snakes are theoretically among the most venomous of maritime reptiles. Nothing more, nothing less. And that plus a couple bucks'll get you a cup o' hot coffee.

Ergo the mission-critical point is this: perhaps the most scientifically & statistically pertinent variable to be considered when ranking "the most toxic fish on planet earth" is whether or not you even stand a chance to swim within 5 meters of one. Or better yet -- whether or not the critter is aggressive by nature. NOT necessarily the ranked-on-paper molecular potency of some bad juju it packs in its poison...

For sobering example, take the diminutive & DEADLY irukandji -- perhaps the most feared critter on the Aussie Great Barrier Reef. Basically, the sting of one or two tiny irukandji jellyfish (size of a middling pea) can kill you twice as fast as anything that swims -- even the renowned blue-ringed octopus of the GBR, which lives abundantly in tide pools & coastal shallows up & down Australia's coastlines. Now many marine biologists will tell you the irukandji carries in its stingers the most potent marine toxin ever known to science. But it's not a vertebrate fish, it's a jelly. So a hair may be split here, though irukandji's have few available, as they're decidedly balder than cyanide-laced gummi bears.

Here's another fly in the ointment of maritime hyperbole: eating even a slimy slick from sushi prepped adjacent to the pierced liver of a common pufferfish ( prized by adrenally challenged Japanese gourmands ) will kill you faster than a stonefish the size of an NBA b-ball. Yet dear ol' Puffy is harmless as a puppy. I have seen divemasters gently bounce them on their palms like tennis balls in zero gravity. But the pufferfish does have a spine, ergo he IS a bona fide fishy fish. The tetrodotoxin of any adult Puff-meister seems a skosh less lethal to humans than stonefish venom, in a biochem sense, at least according to anecdotal case studies. But it will knock you down, & out, just as quick. So how will we ever really know which fish is worst, per scientific method?

Researchers are having a tough time finding volunteers for that study...

All this to conclude, fellow sunseekers, that we recommend it's best not to fling around labels like "the worst this" or "the most toxic that" without first providing a reasonable, conservative, non-hysterical context.

A good guy we know in Europe, (we'll call him Helmut) who dives the North Sea all the time, posted this excellent question on a major social medium a little while back. Helmut asked rhetorically “Should recreational diver certifications be forever?” Here was my reply & a semi-snarky debate that soon ensued...

John Hessburg: An excellent question. Thanks for bringing up this important topic, Helmut. We have pondered this many times as well. It's our feeling that for especially the more serious technical venues, like cave & cenote diving, wrecks in Truk & the Solomons, deep mixed-gas wrecks in the mid-Atlantic, heavy-current dives in the NordSee, etc. perhaps the industry might consider requiring proof of a refresher course for any divers who've gone, say, longer than 2 or 3 years without a dive. Would love to hear the ideas of other divers, both pros & recreational enthusiasts...﻿

Derek (pseudonym):I like the way G.U.E. certification works; after you get certified, you have to renew your certification after 3 years. You have to "proof" you made a minimum of 25 dives on the highest level of your certification, by uploading your logbook entries. ﻿

John Hessburg: I'm calling baloney on these remarks, Manfred. Not even remotely clever nor funny. Your comment crosses the line. Here is a story showing why you may wish to rethink this....

A few years back a couple buddies & I were diving, on our own, off Ala Moana Beach Park near Honolulu on Oahu island. When we came back to shore & were shucking our gear, we saw a commotion 100 meters down the shoreline & we rushed over to help. While taking a resort course from a local dive shop, a young Japanese tourist was stricken with DCS-2 & passed out cold in the water. The instructors hauled him to shore & tried to revive him, but he slipped into a deep coma, likely from a brain aneurysm or catastrophic stroke. Then his breathing stopped...

The crowd watched helplessly as all color drained from his limp body, & paramedics struggled frantically to restore his vital functions. His wife & many friends watched him slowly slip away into a gray ghastly death & the looks on their faces were so horrified, so sad to see a loved one ripped from life right in front of them, I am certain had you seen that wife's devastated expression, you never again would feel comfortable declaring "I like that."

Meanwhile, back in the North Cascades I served a few years on the Mountain Rescue Council as well, & sadly, many of our "clients" were brought off the peaks literally in pieces after static falls of 100 - 500 meters; or were so battered beyond recognition by long bouncing falls down jagged faces that we had to haul them away in black rubber bags. If you could have been there on those missions, comforting the wives & children & parents back at base camp, who were worried sick & waiting for word from the advance team, you never again would feel comfortable making jokes that cold & hostile.

Sure, there are bad divers & bad climbers, but they are human beings with families. And if you were ever in a jam after a diving accident, I am sure you would appreciate a rescue team showing you a bit more compassion & concern than you expressed today. Best wishes to you, young man, & I hope you'll give this some thought. God bless you & your family this Spring.

No worries, amigos del mar -- I’m talking about a quirky little sea slug, adorned in brilliant oranges & reds, purples, blues & yellows, really a near-infinity of color variations, & normally the size of your thumb. It is called a “Nudibranch” -- pronounced "NOOD’-a-brangk." They are so beautiful & elusive that if even one flits by your diving mask, the dive day is blessed, energized, complete. This delicate creature is like some Muddled Moth of the Sea that ripples through life in a breeze-blown dream. It is one of the oddest animals anywhere in the world's oceans. And it’s among my personal favorite marine organisms on Earth.

There are over 3,000 species of nudibranchs, and new eye-candy species are still being discovered each year. They range in size from a few millimeters to 25 cm long, and can weigh up to 1.5 kilos. Most are pretty small. Coming in an astonishing variety of colors, sizes & shapes, these mellow undulating nudibranchs are found in all the world's oceans, from cold water to warm water.

The nudibranchs have no eyes to see the way a human can see; & what's more they share the mating morals of the uptown urban playboy set. Nudibranchs are anything but monogamous... Like snails & banana slugs, they are simultaneous hermaphrodites -- meaning they embody both male & female reproductive organs. Ergo, without a care in the world, these critters can mate with any other mature member of their specie. Anywhere, any time. Poor nudibranch parents must wring their rhinophores once the kids leave home…

This sea slug often sports brightly colored antennae called – yep you guessed it -- "rhinophores." Marine biologists believe these tiny organs allow the animal to detect chemical “smells” in the water. Rhinophore colors & shapes will vary among species. Other varieties project clusters of fingerlike tubes from their backs, called “cerata,” which they use to breathe, digest food or sting predators. The word “nudibranch” literally translates to "naked gill," because the creature's gills are normally exposed along its dorsal flank.

Most nudibranchs feed on soft corals, snails, anemones, hydroids & various sponges. Nudibranchs often are decked out in dazzling colors, which serve as a warning that they can pack a potent poison. Some nudibranchs store the toxins of the animals they devour -- as an extra self-defense strategy.

To see creatures like these all around the brilliant reefs, if you'd like to visit Palau for example, where we offer wonderful diving live-aboards such as Palau Aggressor, Tropic Dancer, Ocean Hunters I & III -- just give us a shout-out any time...

A warm welcome to LIVE-ABOARDS.COM, where you will find a veteran team of liveaboard vacation experts & tropical dive trip planners who love their jobs. We've represented the finest scuba diving liveaboards since 1991. Our planning pros guarantee you the best prices & TLC service. Just call 952-953-4124 any time the spirit moves… We are here to help you turn pipedreams into practical reality.

A scuba diving friend in Europe inquires in a recent social-media post: "Can you scuba dive during a thunderstorm? This question arose a while back when I wanted to go scuba diving and we found ourselves suddenly in the middle of a thunderstorm. At this moment we where still in the car and decided to cancel the dive and go back home. But what if the thunderstorm had hit while we were in the water? Water is one of the best conduits for electricity..."

U.S. Dive Travel owner John Hessburg replies: You made a wise decision, amigo del mar, to cancel at that moment. Salt water conducts electrical charge super-efficiently. Therefore, a heavy lightning strike -- even 100 meters away -- can debilitate or kill virtually any living thing in that circle of vulnerability. When we were divemastering in Puget Sound (Washington state USA) we had a firm policy with the new Open Water students -- that any time lightning was visible within 2-4 miles of our cove, we would cancel the scuba class immediately. That's because it's common for lightning strikes to be generated at steep oblique angles over considerable distances. And that arc of electrical potential can connect planet to sky in an astonishing fraction of a second...

Just to give you a rough idea of how much deadly energy is packed into a large lightning strike -- a few years back I was in a 2-man ocean kayak with my best buddy Bonz, paddling back across a 3-mile channel in Lake Superior from the Apostle Islands to Bayfield Wisconsin, when a sudden violent thunderstorm engulfed us as we floated like a puny cork in this vast inland sea. Two-meter waves of frigid water were crashing across the bow of our ocean kayak & the adrenaline was flowing like a faucet. Then -- Bam -- lightning struck two times about a kilometer away, crashing down onto the 25-meter metal masts of large sailboats moored across the channel. The raw power of those impacts was SO great that it actually "shook the water" & transmitted a sickening thud to our plastic kayak hull. Really grateful for that non-conductive plastic kayak & plastic paddles! Not ashamed to say it was a close-to-terrifying experience -- & I love thunderstorms like I love fine art.

Another time on the summit plateau of Mount Rainier in western Washington state, our team of 4 men was approaching the crater rim at approx 4,270 meters elevation (14,000 ft) one misty morning. I told my climbing team to take immediate shelter down on a shallow shelf of a glacial cravasse when a thunderstorm suddenly swept across the summit dome. We ducked down just in the nick of time... Two times lightning struck within 50 meters of our crouched position & the bolt's percussive force, the shock wave of transmitted energy, drilled small craters the size of bushel baskets into the glacier ice, & literally flattened us onto our backpacks.

Ergo, good brother, lightning deserves our reverent & prudent respect at all times, whether on land or in the water. Those bolts of lightning carry fierce amounts of destructive energy.

Good rule of thumb -- NEVER MESS WITH MAMA NATURE ! She can bite back, big time....

“Half the fun of travel is the aesthetic of lost-ness,” renowned sci-fi writer Ray Bradbury once said. I partly agree; & always seek the thin edge of every new locale when on any adventure trip. Always feel driven by this same muse, a lifetime search for sweet edges. One thing though, friends...I never feel lost anywhere. Never. Yet I avoid being found with enormous assertion & elaborate planning. Prefer to think of that drifty adventure aesthetic as "semi-foundness." So Ray & I basically agree... but for me it's this way -- when I travel there's a deep fondness for a partial foundness.-- John HessburgFounder, Live-Aboards.com & U.S. Dive Travel Network________________________________________________________________________

A short time ago, a friend & colleague (she's a smart dive shop owner, a strong diver & a lovely woman) sent a post into Google+ showing a big bull shark wheeling around, jaws gaping, heading for a diver. Here was our cheeky repartee:

JH: Now here's an interesting li'l specie -- the Bull Shark. Pretty mellow most of the time, until you scare one up from a deep sleep in the furthest recesses of an ink-black 6-by-6-foot cavern, tunneling 'bout 80 yards under a rock island in Tonga's Vava'u Group. Then bam! Cardio city... They are nice, until they're NOT...She replied: Shhhh. I spend a good deal of time trying to convince new divers how safe sharks are. Great story and that's exactly why it happened, the shark was startled. If that Bull really wanted you, you wouldn't be here to write the story, right? ; )﻿JH: Howdy friend... Don't tell 'em that all species are safe, because it just ain't so, amiga del mar. I'm sure you'll agree that of the roughly 300 shark species most of us have dived with over the last 25 years, nearly all but about 5 or 6 are generally safe. And I'll stand firm on the need to be wary of edgy tempers with these artful dodgers -- Great Whites, SoPac tigers, bronze whalers, oceanic whitetips, hammers during certain lunar phases &....drum roll... bull sharks in a tight corner. Anyway, those were the days of the leg-strapped 10-inch combat blade. (Now lost to rust...) That bull might've wanted a chomp or two, I'll never know, but there would've been a good fight. As it turned out, he was so frightened, he bolted out of that tunnel at approx 20 wicked knots & swooshed past so abruptly -- less than a foot from my left shoulder -- that he made a water-wind. Spun me around in a near-180. Judging by the muscle mass that generated that vortex, he might've been pushing 2.5 meters & a solid 220-270 kilos. Though I'm guessing he was smaller than the bull shark up in this vid clip above... Good thing that ol' bull was not telepathic, or he would have sensed an embarrassing couple seconds of sheer fear -- that deep into the skinny Tongan cave. But the story has a happy ending. After making the equivalent of a "Whew - WTH?" sign into each other's torches, we decided to press on.... found that the tunnel transected the whole rock island. And after dipping to about 34 meters depth, we emerged into blissful daylight at about 30 meters on the windward shore of that little motu. One of the coolest dives I've ever enjoyed anywhere in the SoPac; & yep, adrenaline was like habanero sauce on the longish linguine of that cave foray... ;)

Author

John Hessburg is the founder & managing partner of U.S. Dive Travel Network & Live-Aboards.com. A certified divemaster & senior mountaineering guide, he has explored new dive sites & new alpine routes in many countries around the world. John has published scores of adventure articles in newspapers, magazines & blogs across the USA. He calls Minneapolis, MN home but divides his stateside time among friends & family in MN, WA & CO. Overseas time is devoted to the South Pacific, Latin America & Hawaii -- as the Spirit of the Big Blue moves.